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One Pair of Trousers, Two Women, No Surprise

It’s just over a fortnight since Theresa May gave an “at home” interview to the Sunday Times, telling the paper about her childhood and explaining how Brexit keeps her awake at night. But it was her choice of trousers – which cost a reported £995 – that provoked most discussion.

“I don’t have leather trousers. I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much on anything apart from my wedding dress,” former Education Secretary Nicky Morgan told The Times, adding that the trousers had been “noticed and discussed” in Tory circles.

Great. We’ve been battered over the head for the past decade by relentless campaigns telling us that women deserve the same respect, pay, and opportunities as men and holding open doors is sexist hence all-female shortlists are necessary and glass ceilings must be smashed, etc. Yet here we have a female MP publicly criticising another’s woman’s wardrobe choices.

There is a school of thought out there that says that women cannot but help themselves from fighting like ferrets in a sack, and even attaining senior corporate positions or high office doesn’t stop them from indulging in petty sniping at one another as if they were still in school. This latest episode is hardly going to prove them wrong, is it?

But the story, inevitably by now dubbed “trousergate”, was not going away, and at the weekend the Mail on Sunday revealed a terse exchange of text messages involving Mrs Morgan and the PM’s joint chief of staff, Fiona Hill.

Two middle-aged women engaged in a text-spat over another woman’s trousers? The Patriarchy is kind of redundant at the moment, isn’t it?

While the Amanda Wakeley-designed “bitter chocolate” clothing has made the headlines, the spat plays into a wider row, largely about Brexit.

Mrs Morgan, who was sacked as education secretary by the PM when she took over in Number 10, has been vocal in calling on the government to set out details of its EU exit strategy, despite its refusal to offer a “running commentary”.

Well, yes. Rather than deal with the main issue at hand, Woman A has taken to making snide remarks about Woman B’s clothing. Hands up those who are surprised at this?

I’ve said it before: the biggest enemy of a smart, ambitious, professional woman is another smart, ambitious, professional woman. How many male MPs made public comments about May’s trousers? Those who are forever ramming diversity policies down our throats and forcing corporations to shoe-horn women into ever more senior positions might want to stop and think about this for a minute.

Oh, for goodness’ sake! In the past, the media has commented on male politicians’ clothing style (or lack thereof) and accessory choices — but it ceased to be newsworthy within a couple of days. So why this prolonged furore about May’s trousers?

Well, I generally am supportive of the idea that Absolutely Fabulous is the logical end point when you put women in charge and remove any men from the situation. The bitching over a pair of trousers as an issue of national importance surprises me not in the slightest.

Did not the Graph, this morning, run a story with photograph of La Morgan carrying a handbag which they said cost as much as the strides in question?

The trousers were £995, I think. Expensive yes, but any self-respecting man in such a senior position would be wearing a suit well north of that, albeit he probably would be wearing a cheaper outfit when sat at home. May is the Prime Minister FFS, she isn’t some pauper claiming poverty, and it’s not like she’s wearing a £250k Patek Philippe on her wrist while running a shoddy township like the Russian politicians do.

That’s an amusing story, made all the more so by the fact the Mail chose to illustrate it with a cleavage shot of the proprietor. Some things never change…

And this:

Fashion was a great divider, though in this battlefield everyone was on their own. Hideously stereotypical and shallow as it sounds, clothes were a huge source of catty comments, from sly remarks about people looking over-dressed to the merits of their fake tan application.
I always felt sorry for anyone who naively showed off a new purchase in the office, because everyone would coo appreciatively to their face – then harshly criticise them as soon as they were out of earshot. This happened without exception.